


Touch the Stars (These Four Walls)

by Scarlet_Gryphon



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (but not until later in the story), Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Mythology/Religion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Gen, Other, Pre-Relationship, Present Tense, What if Minerva wasn't the only Miralavinian, alien aging is not the same as human, and the Ducknerva Discord Server, brief moments of dissociative thoughts, consensual and informed consumption of mind altering substances in a ritual setting, discussions of canon genocide, discussions of child soldiers/ using non-adults/teens in war, eventual ducknerva, gratuitous misspellings of various earth deities, hand-waving/modification/tweaking of canon abilities, inspired by a song, just because someone looks like a human doesn't mean they actually are, set pre-meteor, study of alien cultures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Gryphon/pseuds/Scarlet_Gryphon
Summary: Minerva has always believed she is the last of her kind- that is, until one morning when a shuttle lands on Miralaviniax Orbital Body Number Five and shatters that notion to pieces. She's wholly unprepared for what she finds beyond the edges of her broken world.
Relationships: Minerva/Duck Newton, minor background relationships - Relationship, pre-Minerva/Duck Newton
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	1. You Carry It With You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I'm back again with another 'fic focusing on the cool alien culture we never got to explore during Amnesty. I blame the Ducknerva Discord server, my love for Minerva, and the song "Four Walls (The Ballad of Perry Smith)" from Bastille for spawning this whole thing. Reviews and concrit are gladly welcomed!
> 
> Also, in this story, Minerva is roughly in her equivalent of her early twenties, given her kind live so much longer than humans.
> 
> Also Also! Here is a link to the Ducknerva Discord server! Come join us:[ Click me!](https://discord.gg/4UUJnu4)

Minerva opens her eyes, a sense of unease sweeping over her. She sits up and swings her legs over the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what's making her feel so out of sorts. A sigh leaves her before gets to her feet. She needs to meditate, and she can't do that properly in her bed. The halls of the temple she has lived in for the past one hundred and fifty-five cycles echo with her sandal-clad footsteps after she dresses and then leaves her quarters, heading to the meditation room near the center of the sprawling complex.

The first things she checks on once she's settled in a cross-legged seat in the meditation room are her mental bonds with Leo Tarkesian and Duck Newton. They're still there, though not as vibrant and focused as they are when she uses the psionic resonating chamber. Minerva lets out a sigh of relief, her worry that her far-distant friends and proteges had come into some sort of danger her far sight cannot predict decreasing sharply. If it's not an issue with Leo and Duck, then what is it? What has awoken her from a well-earned slumber?

Minerva draws in several slow, deep breaths and then lets her far sight free, abandoning herself to the flow of the psionic currents that stream through the universe. Snatches of sounds in a myriad of languages flow past her, as do flashes of images that bring with them brief bursts of exotic scents. Minerva focuses her attention closer to home, figuring that it's not something echoing across the stars to disturb her dreams, because if it was, then her dreams surely would be more dire.

Her mind skims over the more familiar psionic currents that surround Miralaviniax Orbital Body Number Five, stuttering greatly when she suddenly feels the complex touch of a Mira mind against hers. It's a momentary brush but enough to throw her out of her meditation. Minerva stares blankly at the wall across from her for far longer than she cares to admit.

She... She's not alone?

_She's not alone._

Minerva abandons all pretenses of propriety and dashes through the temple, her simple robes flapping around her legs as she runs through the halls and up winding stairs. She can all but hear her long-dead temple masters' chiding words echoing in her ears as she runs but ignores the whispers of the past, too intent on reaching her destination. It's not long before she's made her way to the highest outer viewpoint she can access, and once there, she starts to make a circuit of the broad balcony, heart racing as she paces in the early morning light.

A glint of sun off metal to the east catches her attention. Minerva freezes, her breath catching in her chest as she watches the large metal object descend through the wispy clouds and then make its way towards her. The rumble of great engines in the distance grows steadily louder, and all too soon what seems to be a landing shuttle of some kind- though not in any design Minerva has ever seen before, even in the museums detailing her people's history -slowly comes to rest in the broad stone-paved plaza in front of the temple.

Minerva's off like a shot once more, only stopping by her quarters long enough to grab her scabbard-clad sword and a matching dagger before she makes her way outside. She slows a few dozen paces before she reaches the front doors, sliding her dagger into its sheath at her right hip and then attaching her scabbard through the loops hanging from her left hip, adjusting the tightness with practiced hands. She strides out of the temple with more dignity and bravado than she truly feels, hoping she projects the picture of a calm and dignified warrior.

She's honestly too young to carry that title, even with the rank of War Councilor that the Mira High Council has bestowed on her. It's not uncommon for her people to live an average of seven hundred cycles around the great swirling red-orange gas giant named Miralaviniax that even now hangs corpulent and resplendent in the sky overhead, and usually warriors come into their own at two hundred. The High Council had been desperate in those final days, though, and had taken advantage of a quirk that their enemy displayed on the battlefield in an attempt to finally end the battle.

The Swarm- if they had a proper name, no Mira had known it -only attacked those whose _glema_ shone with the light of adulthood. Minerva had yet to go through the ceremonies that would awaken her inner light, thus why even now she paints herself like a child does. The Council saw this and decided in all their wisdom that if a full adult could not slip past the enemy lines unscathed, then perhaps one who was not a child but not yet a full adult could. Minerva carries the weight of what she's wrought with her every day, the burden only easing some when she speaks with Leo or Duck. At least with them she's made some sort of positive difference.

By the time she's able to open the large gate that seals the temple off from the rest of the city, the occupants of the shuttle have disembarked, their protective suits and helmets making Minerva pause. Has she been foolish to rush out so quickly to greet the newcomers? She hesitates, every muscle in her body primed to allow her to rush back into the safety of the temple grounds even as her hand comes to rest on the pommel of her sword. If she has to fight, then she's going to do her best to defend herself.

The tallest of the small group of visitors checks something on their wrist, nods to the others, and then removes their helmet, tucking it against their side. Minerva leans heavily against the dull wood of the gate as she stares at the first Mira she's seen in fifty-five cycles, her vision going blurry until her third eyelids sweep across her eyes to moisten them without losing sight of the newcomers. She shakes her head, blinking normally, and then straightens up.

It takes a moment for her to focus and speak in Mira, as she's more used to speaking in English to Duck and Leo these days. “Welcome,” she calls out, thanking whatever gods seem to be watching over her that her voice only trembles a little as she speaks. “Welcome to Three Clouds Temple. I-”

She hesitates, her thumb rubbing over the smooth blue _kavla_ stone sent into the pommel of her sword in a self-soothing motion before she continues on. “I am Mhinherva _na_ Sirali, acolyte of this temple and former War Councilor. Who do I have the honor of speaking to?”

“Mhinherva _na_ Sirali, well met. I am Bahsteyt _na_ Kosigan, First Hand to Aisys _ko_ Pa'ai. We have been looking for news of your people for so long, and are gladdened to see that survivors still remain.” Bahsteyt looks around, her _glema_ shifting from a neutral blue to a curious rose hue that stands out against her pale violet skin. “Are there any other survivors?”

Minerva closes her eyes, pushing away the swell of grief that threatens to wash over her. She has plenty of practice at it by now, so she recovers within a few seconds. “No, First Hand, there are not. It's just me.”

Bahsteyt gives her a long, searching look and then inclines her head. “Very well,” she says, her lilting voice holding no condemnation, though Minerva knows that will likely change once she hears of how that state of things has come to occur. “May we come in?”

“Wh- Oh, yes!”

Minerva thinks furiously as she steps back away from the gate. Does she have any tea left? It's- wait, yes, there's a small stash left in the High Caller's quarters if she remembers right. It may not be the best, but it will have to do.

She leads the group of four into the temple, mentally lamenting the fact that she can't show them the proper hospitality and respect that she rightly should. No matter. Minerva squares her shoulders, head held high. She'll make do.

She always has.

Tea is... awkward. Minerva does her best to remember all of the appropriate steps and ceremonial gestures, but by the end of it, she's sure she's messed up horribly in several spots. Her Ceremonies Master would be appalled, though to be honest, that was never a hard state of affairs to get them in. She smiles slightly as she remembers the running attempts to make Master Mhercurie turn a particularly annoyed shade, their cheeks going a deep blue as their _glema_ shimmered an annoyed pearlescent white. It's been many cycles since she's thought of that, and the reprieve is welcomed.

“So,” Bahsteyt says as she sets down her now-empty teacup on its matching saucer, “come, tell us of how all of this came to be. I suspect there will be quite a story behind it all.”

“Shouldn't that wait until we get back home?” one of the others- Minerva quickly rifles through her thoughts for his name, coming up with Mayhen -asks, arching an eyebrow curiously. “The Bright Ones will want to hear the story for themselves, and you know how they get if they don't hear it firsthand. Besides, look at her. She's hardly in any state to tell us a story. For stars' sake, she doesn't even have her _glema_.”

Minerva feels her cheeks warm at that. It only serves to remind her just how young she truly is among her kind. She's so used to being older than Duck and Leo that it's easy to forget her true age. Bahsteyt and Mayhen get into a spirited debate that Minerva stays well out of, not wanting to draw any undue attention to herself. Her skin is starting to itch at being still for so long, and the sound of others' voices arguing in clipped Mira is strange against her ears.

She's been alone too long, severed from those like her that even this small level of interaction is disconcerting. Minerva turns her attention away from the argument, fiddling with her teacup. She feels like a small child again, ignored by her training masters as they fight over the best way to teach their pupils. A hand on her knee causes her to startle, her attention snapping up to the third and final member of the newcomers.

Sohkahr smiles at her, their golden eyes startling when taken in contrast against their skin. Minerva returns the smile with a shaky one of her own, glancing at Bahsteyt and Mayhen momentarily before turning away again.

“Don't worry about them,” Sohkahr assures her, their voice low and carrying more than a hint of amusement. “They'll bicker from first to last light if you let them.” They roll their eyes. “They've been bonded for well over fifty cycles and still argue like initiates.”

Minerva bites back the desperate giggle that wants to escape, stifling it behind a hand. She bites her lip, her sharp incisors nearly drawing blood from the dusky blue skin. Sohkahr squeezes her knee gently before letting their hand fall away, looking the picture of innocence when Bahsteyt turns her focus on the pair of them.

“We'll take you back to Orbital Body Seven,” she declares. “You'll tell your story to our leaders and then they'll decide what to do with you. One thing I know for certain, you won't be here alone any more, Mhinherva.”

Minerva nods, too swept up in the idea that she finally be back among her own kind to truly calculate and realize the costs of what agreeing to such a thing will actually entail. She packs what little she has into a bag and follows the others onto the shuttle, strapping her luggage and herself in before the craft takes off and leaves the now-abandoned city behind.


	2. Break the Silence Open Wide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for brief moments of dissociative thoughts, canon discussion of genocide, and children/youths being used as soldiers.
> 
> Also! Here is a link to the Ducknerva Discord server! Come join us:[ Click me!](https://discord.gg/4UUJnu4)

It takes several hours to get from Orbital Body Five to Seven, and Minerva stays strapped down to her seat throughout the whole ride. Bahsteyt and Mayhen are the ones piloting the shuttle, Sohkahr staying in the rear passenger area with Minerva. The quiet chatter between the two pilots is soothing, even if Minerva can't really tell what they're saying. She's never been trained on spacecraft, as that's not really been a focus for her people, especially not after the archway appeared.

She closes her eyes, leaning back in her seat. The feeling of near-weightlessness is an odd one, and Minerva finds she much prefers to have her feet firmly on the ground. Her eyes fly open as they break through to the lower atmosphere, pupils dilating greatly in her distress.

It feels like she's standing in the middle of a bustling market with several people shouting directly in her ears. The planet is a cacophonous din of empathic impressions shoving their way into her brain. She groans and buries her head in her hands. It's been so long since she's been around so many of her kind that she's all but forgotten about just how _noisy_ they are. It used to be a background hum that she barely noticed, but now it's a tumultuous roar that threatens to swamp her.

Minerva barely realizes that she's pressed her hands flat over her ears until Sohkahr is gently prising them away. She blinks at them, eyes watering in pain. Sohkahr smiles at her in commiseration.

“We should've expected this. I'm sorry. I can help shield you until you get used to the noise again.”

“That would be _amazing_ ,” Minerva replies almost instantly. Sohkahr squeezes her hands before their _glema_ shift into a soothing pale blue. The tenseness that has set up in Minerva's whole body eases as she feels what she can only liken to a soft blanket wrap around her mind, helping to buffer against the swell of emotions and errant thoughts crashing over her.

“Thank you.”

Sohkahr nods, their smile crinkling the corners of their eyes as they sit back in their seat, the straps keeping them in place readjusting with the motion. “You're more than welcome.”

The ship comes to rest ten minutes later on a landing pad attached to a multi-tiered pyramid-shaped building that reminds Minerva of her temple back on Five. It feels good to be back on solid ground once more. Sohkahr's shield holds strong as the four of them make their way from the ship and into the interior of the building. Minerva finds her head to be on a near-permanent swivel as she takes in their surroundings.

The level they're on seems to be mainly administrative, with various Mira going about their business and giving their little group barely more than a passing glance. Bahsteyt leads the way to a set of rooms where Minerva is given the chance to bathe properly with sweet smelling oils and soaps, the water gloriously and uniformly hot during the entirety of her ablutions. She emerges from the shower feeling refreshed, though the lack of paint on her skin is an odd sensation.

Bahsteyt provides her with a fresh change of clothes and actual shin-high boots that fit surprisingly well, the _kirosh-_ skin leather supple yet supportive around her feet and legs. She slips her sheathed dagger into her right boot when no one is looking, glad for the flat shape that allows her to hide it easily. Her sword stays behind, as being visibly armed in front of the Bright Ones is anathema. Minerva smooths down the fabric of her robes, making sure the hems fall right around her ankles before she gets to her feet.

“I'm ready,” she says, though just what level of preparedness that actually is, she's not sure. Likely far less than what's necessary for meeting the leaders of the entire orbital body, that's for certain. The highest members of the government Minerva has ever met with were those of the High Council and the various generals under their command. She's heard of the Bright Ones- every Mira has regardless of their place in society -but she's never been in their presence.

Bahsteyt is the one that takes her to the grand audience chamber on the ground floor of the building, her measured footsteps providing a steadying beat Minerva can focus on in an attempt to calm her nerves. It helps some, but not enough.

Guards stand posted at the tall doors leading to the audience chamber, their armor shined to a mirror polish and purely ceremonial. Minerva can't help but judge the armor for its battle-worthiness or lack thereof, immediately categorizing all the ways it can fail with just a few well placed hits of a sword or battle hammer. She's up to twenty as the guards push the doors open, the well-oiled hinges making the motion smooth as glass.

The chamber beyond is richly decorated, but all the trappings pale in comparison to the chamber's inhabitants. Twenty thrones are arranged in a half circle facing the door, each made from finely wrought metal and supplied with plump cushions. All but two are occupied, and Minerva can immediately see why those seated on the thrones have the titles of Bright Ones.

Each is easily twice her height, dressed in the finest of clothing and jewelry. Unlike any other Mira Minerva has encountered, each Bright One has skin that looks like the fine facets of a masterfully cut gem, their _glema_ shifting and refracting in slow patterns just beneath the crystalline surface. Minerva knows the legends of the Bright Ones, of how they are the hearts of each Orbital Body and the First of them all. Every Mira child learns the tales at their parents' knees, as the stories are the strong foundation of their people.

Minerva's steps stutter when she realizes just what the two empty thrones mean, her breath drawing in sharply.

She... Has she-

Oh stars above and ground below, has she killed her home along with her people?

She barely registers what Bahsteyt is saying to the two Bright Ones on the thrones at the crown of the arc, her eyes fixed on the empty seats. Her stomach roils, and for once she's glad she hasn't had much to eat recently, because she doubts emptying herself of what little food she's had that day would be looked favorably upon by anyone. Bahsteyt's hand on her shoulder breaks Minerva from her dazed reverie, and she snaps her attention to the older woman.

“Wh- what? My apologies, First Hand,” she says, mindlessly falling back on the formalities that have been driven into her since she was old enough to understand their meaning. “I was... overwhelmed.”

“Understandable, but I need you to focus now,” Bahsteyt tells her. She inclines her head briefly towards the Bright Ones she has just been speaking with. “My Lord Osairys and Lady Aisys would hear of your story, Mhinherva _na_ Sirali.”

Minerva closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath to steady herself, and then squares her shoulders. Right. She can do this. It's just like telling a report to the High Council.

Bahsteyt guides her into place and then steps back and to the side, letting the Bright Ones focus solely on her. This close, Minerva discovers a fascinating thing: while Osairys and Aisys are there in the crystalline flesh, the others are merely very convincing near-solid projections. She wonders if it's all a ruse, and then realizes that such a thing would be foolish. No, it's more likely that the Bright Ones, for all their fabled powers, simply cannot leave their terrestrial territories, so being able to project their images into a shared space is the easiest way to speak to one another about things of great import.

Aisys shimmers like golden topaz while Osairys is the cool gray of moonstone. Both are draped in deep purple linens and silks, the rich fabrics only serving to add to their majesty rather than make it look garish. Minerva focuses on a spot between their thrones, trying to ignore the vibrantly unsettling gazes both Bright Ones fix her with as she begins to speak. Their eyes are faceted like the gemstones they resemble, and Minerva can't help but compare them to the eyes of the Swarm.

“Seventy cycles ago, a strange archway first appeared three _mila_ outside of Castos. It was originally thought that it had been built by some of the locals, but barely a week after, the first forward scouts of the Swarm came through. They attacked the closest settlements and then made their way to Castos, leaving devastation in their wake. The war raged for fifteen cycles. We...”

Minerva flexes her fingers, her nails catching against the fabric of her robes before she continues on.

“I was part of Three Clouds Temple. The High Council selected candidates from each of the eight Great Temples to act as infiltrators behind enemy lines. I was the youngest of the bunch. They kept me back for additional training as the others went out to scout. They- All those who had gone through their Rites did not come back. There was one other who had not gone though the Rites before he was sent out. He managed to capture a bunker and turn it into a forward outpost for us before he was caught by a patrol. He barely made it back through the gate, surviving long enough to pass along the location of the bunker before he died.

“The High Council used that information to their advantage. They commissioned the scientists to create two different kinds of plague to work against the Swarm. I... It was a suggestion of mine that if we could not cut through their numbers with the blade that perhaps a biological weapon was the way to go. They agreed, and once it was ready, I was sent through the gate.”

Minerva pauses, wetting her lips before gathering the strength to finish off her damning report.

“The scientists created two time delayed delivery devices. One was to be put in the river running past their main settlement and one was to be placed on a heavily traveled path into the settlement. I placed them and then made my way to the bunker. My orders were to remain there for four days, using the supplies I brought with me. I stayed five just in case, as while the weapon was made to run hard and fast through the populace, the four days were an estimate.

“When I finally emerged, I went to see how the weapons had worked. They had worked far better than we even expected. The Swarm was gone. It was only when I returned through the gate that I found that it had worked far too well. I don't know if the Swarm carried it through the gate or not, but I returned to to a dead home. I... I buried those I could using what protective gear I had, but others I had to burn as there were too many to bury and not enough land to do so. I've been staying at the temple ever since then.”

She leaves out Leo and Duck's existence, as her Chosen are not part of this story, and gods willing, they never will be. Minerva wants them to stay as far away from the true consequences of her crimes as is possible. They don't deserve to be tarred with the same brush as her, even if their battle bonds link them inextricably together.

She finds herself falling back on parade rest, one hand clasping the opposite wrist behind her. It's a soothing motion, she knows it is, but if it keeps her steady while she waits for the judgment to be brought against her, then she'll take it. Minerva keeps her eyes fixed on the far wall, trying not to wince at the deep rumbling rockfalls of whispers she can hear as the Bright Ones speak among themselves in such an ancient variant of Deep Mira that she has no hope of gaining understanding.

Eventually, Aisys leans forward, faceted eyes gleaming with an inner light.

“ _ **You have given Us much to think about, Mhinherva**_ **na** _ **Sirali. Bahsteyt will take you back to your quarters while we deliberate about what is to become of you now that you are here. Take your rest. We will call you back once we have come to a decision.**_ ”

Minerva bows deeply to Aisys, one hand flat over her heart. “Thank you, Bright One,” she says as she straightens up. Bahsteyt steps forward, one hand coming up to rest on Minerva's shoulder, and leads her out of the audience chamber.

A numb feeling washes over Minerva as they walk, and she can't honestly say how long it takes them to get back to the set of rooms she's been assigned, nor the route they take. Now that she's not focusing on telling her tale, she can't keep her mind from returning to the two empty thrones in the audience chamber. Have the Bright Ones ruling over Five died because of her actions?

Minerva follows that thought down the twisting spiral of shame and guilt that roils in her stomach. She's not only a people killer but also a god-slayer. She wonders just how much the Bright Ones must loathe her at that moment know that they know the true depths of her crimes. Bahsteyt is quiet and Minerva can't get a sense of how she feels about the whole situation, something that only adds to her worry.

The feeling of a hand on her shoulder causes Minerva to startle greatly, her hand going for her missing sword on reflex. Sohkahr lets their hand drop, their surprised expression shifting to concern.

“Are you feeling well? You look... distant.”

Minerva presses her lips together, her racing heart rate slowly beginning to calm. She doesn't trust her voice, not right now. She sees Bahsteyt shake her head out of the corner of her eye. Sohkahr takes the hint and backs off, giving Minerva a short nod of farewell before they leave the room. Bahsteyt waits until it's just her and Minerva in the room before speaking, her voice calm and measured.

“If you need anything, Mhinherva, just ask. There's a call panel just there by the door,” she says, gesturing towards the panel in question. “I know today's been overwhelming for you.” She laughs, the sound soft and huffed out. “Meeting the Bright Ones for the first time is a lot for anyone. It certainly was for me, that's for sure.”

She knows Bahsteyt means well, but Minerva is really in no mood for platitudes and placation. She remains quiet, waiting until Bahsteyt leaves before sinking heavily down to her knees. Her hands come to rest on her thighs as she closes her eyes. Minerva can all but hear her Training Master's calm voice in her ear, urging her to slow her breathing and clear her mind the best she can.

It takes several minutes, but when Minerva reopens her eyes, her thoughts aren't as much of a whirlwind as they have been. The guilt and shame settle at the back of her mind as always, but she's used to that by now. She rises and takes hold of her sword, which has been left placed on her bed. A swift and practiced motion sees the sword free of the scabbard. Minerva sets the scabbard aside on the bed before beginning to move through a set of patterns she's known ever since she was seven cycles old.

The movement of her feet and sword are as sharp and precise as she can make them in the limited amount of room she has, and Minerva finds herself stopping with a clearer mind than before. She glances out the window, her eyes widening when she sees the color of the sky. Sunset. Time for training with Duck Newton.

It'll be harder to reach him without the resonance chamber, but Minerva is sure she can manage it. She centers herself and reaches out along the battle-bond, sending her consciousness across light-years until she finds herself standing in the main common area of Duck's living quarters. It's a relief to see him whole and hearty- or so she assumes -and a broad smile is crossing her face even though she knows Duck cannot discern it through the projection.

“Duck Newton! It is _very_ good to see you, my friend. How are you today?”

Minerva listens to Duck talk about his day, her smile going fond as Duck grumbles good-naturedly about the shenanigans his fellow Pine Guard members and those living at Amnesty Lodge have gotten up to recently. Eventually they do get around to practicing their forms, the limited nature of the psionic projection constraining the amount of time they have together. A light sheen of sweat covers Minerva's skin as they say their goodbyes, but it's an honest and well-earned one.

The luxury of having two full showers in one day is not lost on her, especially as she tips her face up into the warm spray. When she's cleaned and dressed for bed in the loose tunic and leggings that she finds behind the sliding doors of a closet, Minerva situates herself in front of the north-facing altar, lighting a stick of spicy incense before going down to one knee in respect before the wrought metal braided circle meant to represent all the gods known and unknown.

She makes her prayers known to the universe, sending them up to who- or whatever is willing to listen to them. Minerva speaks her desires from her heart, though she doesn't dare voice them aloud. Once the incense finishes smoldering and releases the last of its scent, Minerva prepares herself for bed, using the restroom one last time before turning off the lights and sliding beneath the blankets.

Sleep comes in fits and starts the next few days, even with the comfort of her surroundings. Minerva finds herself rising with the sun on the fourth day without word from the Bright Ones. She tries to work out her nerves by going through some of the more complex routines with her sword. The blade barely misses her foot when a knock sounds at her door, landing on the floor with a thud. She sweeps the sword up, setting it on the bed before going to answer the door.

Mayhen is standing there, a neutral expression on his face. Minerva immediately wishes that she hasn't been doing physical exertion for the past twenty minutes. Mayhen gently clears his throat.

“The Bright Ones would like to see you, Mhinherva,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. “They've given you a quarter of an hour to be ready. Will that be enough time?”

“I'll move as swiftly as I can,” Minerva replies, immediately turning to gather a fresh set of clothes from the small supply she's been given and then going into the bathroom. She's ready to go ten minutes later, or as ready as she can be when she's potentially heading to the pronunciation of her impending execution.

Mayhen leads her to the audience chamber, giving her a quick smile. “Good luck.”

Minerva returns the smile, hoping that everything will go well. She turns to the doorway and steps through, the heavy doors swinging back into place with a dull thud behind her as she walks to her fate.


	3. The Road of Trials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. As you can see, this chapter was a chonker (nearly 7K by my word processor's count!) and it took longer than expected to get it all down. Please note that there is consensual and informed consumption of mind-altering substances in this chapter, though very minor and used in a ritualistic setting. Also, all recognizable dialogue is (c) TAZ/The McElroys.

Aisys and Osairys are the only Bright Ones in attendance as Minerva slowly walks up the carpeted path leading to the throne arc, the other seats devoid of their occupants. Minerva stops with exacting precision in the same spot as her prior audience with them. She holds her head high, ready to hear the proclamation of her sentence. If she's to die, the only thing she regrets is that she'll be leaving her Chosen without prior warning of the severing of their bonds.

“ _ **Mhinherva**_ **na** _ **Sirali, We hope you are well,**_ ” Osairys says, his voice bringing to mind the deep rumble of shifting rock. “ _ **We apologize for leaving you to wait for so long, but We needed to confer with Our fellows before We came to a decision regarding what to do with you.**_ ”

Minerva steels herself for what's to come. Hearing the pronouncement of one's own impending death is never an easy feat.

“ _ **We cannot return you back to Orbital Body Five. A meteor is on route to impact it, and Our scientists say that it will likely hit near your temple, if not directly on it. Therefore, you will be staying here. We suppose you could go to one of the other Orbital Bodies if you want, but that can be discussed later. For now, you are to rest and recuperate.**_ ” He inclines his head, mistaking Minerva's quietness for polite listening rather than the deeply growing mixture of unrest and confusion it truly is. “ _ **We are arranging for you to finally go through your Rites of Ascension, and We will also be arranging a celebration afterwards to rejoice in that and in your victory against a dire enemy.**_ ”

Minerva's confusion continues to grow with each word. Victory? She supposes that it's technically true, but only from a certain point of view. Her stomach roils just thinking about it in that manner. It's hardly a victory when only one person out of thousands survives. And to celebrate it? That seems more of a waste of time and resources than attempting to keep a _ch'rac_ from being interested in shiny things to hoard in its nest.

She doesn't voice her concerns, not wanting to seem ungrateful about her life being spared, but what cost will it truly bring beyond the price it's already extracted? That, she doesn't know. Instead, Minerva nods along to Osairys's words, bowing to him and Aisys respectfully when she is dismissed, backing up several paces before turning and leaving the room. Mayhen pushes away from the wall where he's been waiting, giving her a curious look.

“How'd it go?”

Minerva opens her mouth but can't find any words. She closes it again, not sure how to quantify the feeling that's squatting low and heavy in her chest. It's not quite relief, but it's not the dread it was before. Something of her indecision must show on her face, because Mayhen shoots her a quick smile and then gestures for her to follow him. She does so, trailing along after him as she tries to settle her thoughts and emotions, not really paying attention to the path they take up several levels. That's something she should really work on. It's a bad habit to form, especially in such an unfamiliar place.

The savory scents of spiced grilled meat and roasted vegetables pulls Minerva out of her reverie. Her stomach sets up a grumbling campaign in favor of food, surprising her since she's not had much of a strong appetite since she's arrived on Seven, maybe managing a full meal a day in total. Now, though, it feels like her appetite has returned with a vengeance, the pit of her stomach making itself known in its emptiness.

“Hungry?” Mayhen asks. Minerva lets out a quiet laugh.

“Just a little,” she says, pleased that her voice isn't trembling like she's feared it would. “It smells _amazing_ in here.”

“The dining hall is one of the best in the city,” Mayhen tells her, a note of pride in his voice as the two of them get into the serving line. “We're very lucky.”

Minerva nods, choosing a few small portions of dishes she hasn't had in decades. She's been surviving off of dry stores in the city, animals she's hunted and fished for, and vegetables she's grown in the garden back at the temple. The thought that the garden is going to run wild now that she's gone flits through her mind before she's reminded that the impact of the meteor will wipe it out entirely.

That lowers her mood some, but she soldiers on, thanking those serving the food before joining Mayhen at a table near a window. The sun is rising steadily in the sky; the tangerine hue that graced the atmosphere at sunrise has given way to a deep sapphire. Minerva glances out at the sky before returning her attention to her food. She eats slowly but steadily, doing her best to enjoy the rich flavors of the dishes she's missed for so long.

It's hard, though, especially as her thoughts keep turning to the surprising events of the meeting. Mayhen has to ask her a question three times as the meal ends before Minerva realizes he's speaking to her.

“What? Sorry, I-” Minerva sighs softly. “This morning went... differently than what I was expecting.”

Mayhen considers that before rising to his feet. “Collect your plate and follow me.”

Minerva does so, bringing her dish and utensils to the collection area and leaving them there to be dealt with later by the serving staff. Mayhen leads her up a level and out to a beautifully laid out flower and herb garden that's spread out across the whole of the terrace. It's protected from a majority of the elements by a faint and shimmering domed energy shield, leaving only a gentle breeze and pleasantly warm sunshine to nurture the plants growing there. Pollinators flit among the blooms, their colorful wings glinting in the sunlight as they move.

Mayhen directs her to a bench tucked away in a far corner of the terrace; an arbor arching over the bench is laden with flowers that perfume the air with a sweet scent that isn't too sickly and provides them with a good semblance of privacy. The two of them sit down on the bench, Minerva taking a seat furthest from the entrance onto the terrace. She knows it's more than a little childish, using Mayhen as a barrier between herself and the rest of the world, but at the moment it's comforting.

“So,” Mayhen begins after a minute or so of silence, “how was the meeting with the Bright Ones different than what you were expecting?”

Minerva fiddles with the fabric of her robes as she tries to find the right words. She smooths her hands over her thighs, willing her whirling thoughts to settle from their haphazard flight paths.

“I... I wasn't expecting to leave that room alive,” she confesses, her voice hushed. “I don't- How much do you know of my past?”

“Bahsteyt has told me the basics, but nothing too in-depth,” Mayhen says. “We may be bonded, but she still holds secrets as First Hand that not even I can- or should -know. You can tell me however much or little you want. That is entirely up to you.”

Minerva nods and then tells an abridged version of her story, once again leaving out the existence of her bonds with her Chosen. That's something she's going to hold as close to her heart as she can for the longest time possible. Mayhen listens without judgment as far as Minerva can tell, his attentive silence surprisingly comforting rather than claustrophobic. It reminds her of the way Leo listens to her when she thinks about it.

When she's finished speaking, Minerva doesn't dare look at Mayhen. He's been a quiet and solid presence in her time here, and she'll hate to lose that. Instead, she looks out over the neatly tended garden, soaking in the peace it provides. Mayhen takes in a deep, slow breath and lets it out through his nose before leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs. When he speaks, his voice is low and his words cut through the haze that has been lightly fogging Minerva's mind since leaving the audience chamber.

“I grieve for what you've lost, Mhinherva. Your childhood was stolen from you, and for that, I mourn deeply. The High Council should have found a different method of fighting their battles that didn't involve using children. They threw away your life and the lives of others in an attempt to fight what sounds like a losing war. It was never your task and should not have been given to you at all. The fact that you survived where others did not is not your fault, nor your penance for your actions. The weight of war was thrust onto your shoulders far too young, and it is far past time that it was lifted. It's no longer your burden to carry alone. Let us help you bear it if you can.”

A low, harsh cry breaks the peace of the gardens, the sound out of place in the tranquil surroundings. Minerva crumples into herself, the mere _suggestion_ that she isn't entirely at fault for the death of her homeworld and people shatters the last of her resolve. She lets out the grief that she's been carrying for the past fifty-five and a half cycles, words deserting her in favor of nearly animalistic sounds that hearken back to the more primitive reptilianoid origins of the Mira. Most of that heritage has been lost to time and evolution, with only the _glema_ , pale but still colorfully hued tough skins, and a few other hallmarks remaining in the present time.

Mayhen gently pulls Minerva into a side-embrace, his arm wrapping around around her torso to support her as she leans into his warm bulk. Her sobs peter out into ugly hitching breaths after what feels like an eternity, the emotional explosion leaving her feeling drained and shattered like a dropped water glass. Minerva huddles against her companion, curled in on herself like she hasn't allowed herself since she was old enough to understand that crying solved very few problems for her.

Given that was at five cycles of age, the luxury of completely breaking down has not been something Minerva has truly had. Silence comes with gentle passes of Mayhen's warm hand along her arm, broken only by the occasional sniffle here and there.

“That,” Mayhen says softly, “has been a long time coming, I think. When you're ready, we can get you back to your rooms and you can rest, or we can just stay out here and enjoy the sunshine. It's entirely up to you.”

Minerva contemplates the choices presented. Losing herself to the oblivion of sleep sounds very tempting, but the sun _is_ nice and Mayhen's presence soothing. She rests her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes, letting the warmth of the day and the comfort of a new friend wash over her.

  


Minerva spends the next day wandering the halls of the pyramid complex. She's left alone for the most part, though a lone guard does trail after her to ensure she doesn't go somewhere she isn't allowed. The guard leaves her at her quarters after dinner just in time for her to contact her Chosen. Minerva has been dreading this conversation, but she knows it's vital that she warn them of what's to come.

She reaches out for Leo first, quickly telling him of her plans to speak to Duck at the same time and requesting for him to be an observer for the time being. Leo is curious but agrees nonetheless, waiting patiently as Minerva gets in touch with Duck.

“Ah, Duck Newton! Another successful hunt, I take it? Congratulations!”

Duck's blue-tinged form shrugs. “Ah, thanks, Minnie, I appreciate it.”

Minerva ignores the flash of warmth that settles in the pit of her stomach at the casual nickname Duck bestows upon her and continues on. “I don't- Um, you... you have exceeded my lofty expectations for you.”

“Yeah, I did-” Duck shakes his head. “I kinda fucked Beacon up a lil' bit. I feel kinda lousy about it.”

“May I see?”

Duck presents the blade, allowing Minerva to look it over as best she can. There's a sizable nick, but nothing Beacon can't handle.

“Well, I- I suppose it can't be helped. I'm sure he will still serve you well, and appears to still have some very lethal capabilities. Duck Newton, I know you are tired, but I have something I- I need to say to you and it cannot wait a moment longer.”

Duck's easy acceptance as he makes himself comfortable on a chair bolsters her some, as does Leo's quiet presence. Minerva steels herself and then launches into her story for the third time in a week, giving Duck the full and unedited version, all save for one thing.

“Damn, Minerva, that's a lot to... to dump on a guy. I've had kinda a full day already without startin' to process your... your genocide. Um...”

Minerva pushes away the flare of hurt that rises at Duck's answer, knowing full well that their time is limited. She can focus on the pain after, just as she always has.

“I told you this now because my concerns about losing your trust, of damaging our- our relationship is... Within a few days, if not sooner, it's not going to matter any more. Your power, Duck Newton, it stems from your connection to me and my world, and that includes your power of foresight. Surely you saw it, Duck, you saw in your vision: the meteor.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did, but-”

“It was never coming to Earth. It was coming for me. I... I am safe, for the time being, but the mechanism through which I am able to speak with you across such vast distances, it will be annihilated,” Minerva continues on.

“Wh-what?” Duck freezes in his seat in shock, and out of the corner of her eye, Minerva can see Leo tensing as well.

“This... this will be our last conversation like this for a while, Duck Newton. I will do my best to try and contact you in some way after the connection is diminished, and hopefully find a way to reestablish the full connection between us,” Minerva promises. “Keep your world safe, keep Sylvain safe, and continue your training. It will be... harder after our link is lessened, but you mustn't lose faith. I don't know how this will affect your destiny and abilities, but I can only hope you retain some measure of them to aid you in your fight.”

She bows deeply to Duck, sinking into the motion until she's at the level one uses only for honored equals, and then rises again before turning to Leo.

“It's time to stop hiding,” she tells him. “You need to finish what I started. Go to him.”

Leo nods and then steps back. Minerva lets the connection fade, a bittersweet ache setting up in her chest. She's going to miss her friend and pupil, but she'll be damned if she doesn't try her best to reestablish the deeper connection. Five can't have been the only place to have a psionic resonance chamber, and she'll search every inch of Seven to find one here if it exists.

“Go? Go to who?” Duck asks, bewildered.

Minerva turns back to Duck, a sad smile on her face.

“Duck Newton. My pupil, my friend... I was not talking to you. Fare well, and may the stars guide you safely.”

She bows once more and then lets the connection fade. Minerva sinks to the floor and then draws her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She doesn't want to be alone. Her heart aches with the knowledge that the longest friendships she's ever had will soon be faded echoes.

That knowledge crystallizes barely a day later, and it's all Minerva can do to keep herself from succumbing to her sorrow. She hides it deep within her soul, knowing that the other Mira won't understand just why or for who she grieves. It's just that much more weight added to her burden, and for Duck and Leo, she'll gladly bear it.

  


The arrangements for Minerva's Rites of Ascension are finalized three weeks after her arrival to Seven. Of all the things she's done in her life, this is one of the things that is making her the most nervous. It's silly, she knows, especially after having gone through war, but she's never had the chance to properly go through the Rites like her contemporaries back on Five. She knows basically what the Rites entail, but she's never imagined she'd be able to go through them.

As is traditional, the Rites begin at sundown and are due to finish at sunrise, heralding the end of childhood and the beginning of adulthood. Minerva showers thoroughly, scrubbing every inch of her skin until it glows a healthy pale blue all over. She dresses in a plain white tunic and leggings, her feet left bare. Sohkahr is the one that fetches her, giving her a warm smile when they see her. They're dressed in black robes that provide a stark contrast to Minerva's own clothing.

“Ready?” they ask. “I know you've been waiting for this for a while.”

“I'm as ready as I suppose I can be,” Minerva replies, returning their smile with a small one of her own. “You're to be my pathfinder, then?”

Sohkahr nods and then offers their arm for her to take. Minerva rests her hand on their arm before the two of them leave her quarters and make their way to a series of caverns deep below the city, taking a private transport to get to the entrance. Each Orbital Body has similar caverns on it, something that has become integral to the Mira as a species on the whole, both for shelter and coming of age.

Minerva knows personally that the caverns on Five did serve as a shelter of sorts, but it was all to naught in the end. She'd simply blocked up the entrance of the caverns and said the parting prayers to entreat the gods to guide the souls of the departed deep into the stars to be reborn before leaving them to their eternal rest.

She pushes that memory out of her mind as she alights from the transport. It has no place in the events that are to happen over the span of the night. Sohkahr offers their arm once again as the transport trundles away back towards the city proper. Minerva takes it, the pit of her stomach fluttering with nerves.

There's a faint scent that greets them as they enter the caverns, speaking of the mineral-laced waters far below. For a moment, Minerva has the fear that because she's not on the Orbital Body of her birth, the Rites won't work, but surely the Bright Ones have considered that. She doubts that they will have set it all up for her if the Rites won't be able to be finished.

Sohkahr pats her hand gently when they reach the first in the set of caverns, Minerva shooting them a halfhearted smile in response. The dark stone walls have been carefully worked by ancient hands and tools to a near-mirror smoothness. Light is provided by brazier bowls hanging from hooks set into the walls, a sweet-smelling incense perfuming the faint smoke coming from the bowls. In the center of the cavern is an ankle-deep pool of crystal-clear water, shimmering in the low light of the braziers. Sohkahr leads Minerva to its edge and then gently disengages her hand from their arm.

“If you'll kneel in the center of the pool?”

Minerva follows the simple instructions, wincing at the way the fabric of her clothing soaks up the tepid water. It clings to her skin but also provides a buffer against the hard stone of the bottom of the pool. Sohkahr goes over to a large ceramic jar that sits in a corner of the cavern and scoops out a handful of what looks like orange pebbles from within. They separate it out into four equal portions, placing one portion in a low brazier that sits at each cardinal direction around the pool.

It takes about a minute for the resin to catch, but when it does, a thick cloud of smoke wreathes the pool. Minerva coughs as she breathes it in, taken by surprise by the beguiling scent produced by the resin. She's known this would happen, as the resin contains the first step to invoke the proper state of mind for the Rites, but she hasn't expected how thick the smoke is, nor how quickly its scent begins to affect her.

“Mhinherva _na_ Sirali, do you come here today to leave the cares of childhood behind and assume those of an adult under your own free will?” Sohkahr asks, their voice sounding faintly muffled to Minerva's ears as her whole being goes slightly fuzzy and relaxed.

“I do,” she replies, closing her eyes against the smoke surrounding her. She doubts it matters if they're open or not, but she's not too fond of the stinging, so closed it is.

“You have traveled a long and hard road to get here, far longer than most. You have shouldered burdens those three times your age would be wary to lift together, let alone by themselves. Usually, your family would act as your lodestars and pathfinders in these Rites. I am honored to have been chosen to act in their stead and vow to lead you down the Path with honor and dignity.”

Minerva nods, her movements careful as she gets to her feet at Sohkahr's gesture. She follows after them at a measured pace, leaving a wet trail of footsteps in her wake. As they walk, the air around them becomes more humid and heavily laced with the mineral scent of hot springs. Sohkahr begins a lilting chant after they leave the first cavern, singing an ancient tale of the first Mira to walk the worlds.

The song echoes off the rock of the tunnel they're walking through, evoking images of darkness, flickering firelight, and the emergence of new life from nothing. The dim lights of the rush torches that mark the path aid the dreamy ambiance of the atmosphere, and soon Minerva finds herself almost drifting into the second cavern. It's warmer here, the air humid and heavy. Several mud pools litter the floor, the largest of them deep enough for even a Bright One to fit comfortably within. The air is steamy and the mud alive with gently popping bubbles.

Sohkahr takes Minerva to one of the smaller pools, leaving her standing there while they fetch a lightly padded shallow stone headrest from a sheltered nook. They set the headrest at one end of the pool, making sure it's in a good spot before they nod to Minerva.

“Divest yourself of the last vestments of childhood, Mhinherva _na_ Sirali, and enter the lifeblood of the world that longs to embrace you as an adult,” they intone, the ritual words flowing easily from their lips. They close their eyes in deference to Minerva's privacy as she disrobes completely, leaving her clothes and underthings in a neatly folded pile at the side of the pool.

Only when Minerva is settled into the pleasantly hot mud does Sohkahr open their eyes, arranging the headrest so that it cradles her head comfortably. They scoop up some of the mud and carefully begin to spread it over her scalp, smoothing it in a thin layer down to right above her eyebrows. Minerva closes her eyes as Sohkahr works the mud over her skin, shivering faintly at the continual close contact.

It's hypnotic after a while, and Minerva finds herself sinking further into the daze the smoke from earlier has induced. As they work, Sohkahr delves into another story-chant, this time recounting the tale of the heroes Dorayn, Tilve, and Jasros, three great warriors who rose from the humid swamps of Orbital Body Prime and battled the gods in a quest to bring both spiritual and physical light to Mira kind. Each of the three warriors embodies a value parents or guardians wish to pass on to those under their care as they move into adulthood, and even now, the three of them are looked to as prime examples of what a good Mira citizen should be like, regardless of what Orbital Body said person is from.

The tale is also used as a timer of sorts, the length of the story a good measure for how long the person assisting with the application of the mud on the skull and neck has before the next step can be initiated. Sohkahr finishes their tale roughly a minute after they apply the last patch of mud on Minerva's neck right at the surface of the pool itself, making sure everything is thoroughly covered and meets up without any gaps showing. The mud itches as it dries, pulling at the skin on her head.

Sohkahr helps her out of the pool, eyeing the patch of disturbed mud on her arm before quickly reapplying an even coat to replace what's been lost. They have to wait until the mud dries and then repeat the process twice more until there is an even and thick layer of mud all over Minerva's body save for the most vulnerable areas around her eyes, nose, and mouth. The itching is a steady annoyance now, but they've gone this far and there's no way Minerva is stopping for such a small thing as her own comfort.

They make their way to the next cavern, this time in complete silence. The mud makes it difficult to move freely, but the repeated layers mean that only small bits flake off here and there as Minerva walks, which is important for the next step. This is the part that Minerva has worried about the most, if she's honest with herself. The cavern they enter has woven rush mats placed around another low brazier in the center, the coals within crackling and popping gently.

Sohkahr guides her to one of the mats, directing her to take a seat before they go and fetch a clay cup and a small bottle from a stone shelf. The liquid contained within the bottle is sharp like vinegar against Minerva's tongue as she drinks it, only the faintest hint of berry in the aftertaste hinting as to the origins of the fruit it has come from. She sinks down the rest of the way onto the mat with Sohkahr's help, her eyes fluttering shut as she is unceremoniously thrown into the psionic currents of the world without any help or forewarning. The mental shield that Sohkahr set up upon Minerva's arrival to seven melts away like frost in the face of sunshine, leaving her mind and being bare to the universe.

Normally, the link to a young person's family anchors them to the world, allowing them to hold fast to the psionic network shared among the Mira on their Orbital Body, not to mention the Orbital Body itself. Minerva doesn't have that since all she knows is dead and gone, including her homeworld. She's sure that it's expected of her to make a link to the people and world of Seven, but something in her rebels in that. They may be the same species as her, but they're not _hers_.

She delves deep into the currents, searching for the familiar and comforting. It's found in the flickerbug-dim lights of her bonds with her Chosen. Minerva follows them gladly, her mind turning to the attributes of the two men she will most gladly strive to mimic in her day-to-day life. Leo's steadfast patience, his kind heart, and unwillingness to shy away from hard work come immediately to mind, tiny tendrils beginning to sprout out from the bond they share and wrap themselves around her being as she moves ever closer.

Duck is unwavering loyalty, dry humor, and the belief that all are equal and worthy of dignity and respect unless proven otherwise, and even then, it's merely a lessening of those two qualities rather than a complete revocation. His bond mimics Leo's, the tendrils interweaving with his fellow Chosen's to create a deft weave that is but a breath away from shielding Minerva completely.

Minerva knows she'd handled the goat-man issue poorly, but she'd been worried beyond belief that it may have been playing a decoy in order to lure Duck into a false sense of security before attacking or betraying him. Duck's cooler head has once again proven her wrong, and she wishes she could tell him how much she respect him for it.

As she contemplates her past failures, Minerva hopes that she can honor her Chosen by emulating them, and, perhaps, continue to make atonement for her past. She vows to honor her people and protect those who need it the most, not just wage a mindless battle like an automaton pointed in the right direction. That's not her path any longer.

It can't be.

The darkness surrounding her slowly lightens, eventually revealing a scene that makes Minerva's heart clench in surprise and wistful want. The familiar forms of Duck and Leo are before her, presented in vibrant clarity and color like never before, even as her astral form is little more than a faint shimmer of a heat-haze on the air. They're sparring in a courtyard somewhere, swords clashing against one another in achingly familiar patterns and forms. She can hear the clang of metal against metal and the shuffle of their feet against the ground as they move, and it's a good thing she can't cry in this form, because her heart feels overfull to see her two oldest friends and companions finally working together.

The fight slows to its inevitable conclusion, both men panting from the exertion. Duck sets Beacon down and flexes his fingers, working out the stiffness from having them wrapped around a hilt for so long.

“Doin' alright there, Duck?” Leo asks, his gruff rumble of a voice made even rougher by the exercise. Duck grabs a curious looking bottle and drinks from it, lowering it once his thirst is slaked.

“I'm good. Just...” He frowns and rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Worried.”

“About what?”

Duck snorts. “Take your pick. We're both just normal dudes now. I have to worry about the dentist and broken bones and all sorts'a shit. And...” He grimaces. “I guess... Most of all, I'm worried about Minerva, y'know? I know she said she's safe, but it's been two weeks and I...”

“I get it,” Leo says, reaching out with his free hand and placing it on Duck's shoulder in a calming gesture. “It's weird not havin' her popping up every so often, right? And as far as I can tell, she's not _gone_ , just...” He blows out a stream of air as he tries to find the right words. “...far away. Farther than normal, I mean. Before she was always just kinda there on the edge of all things, but now it's like she's on the other side of the world.”

“Yeah.” Duck scuffs his foot against the ground, several emotions passing across his face in quick succession before it settles on resigned acceptance. “I guess we've just got to keep goin' forward and hope like hell we hear from her again at some point, right?”

“Pretty much.” Leo squeezes Duck's shoulder carefully and then steps back. “Ready to go another round?”

Duck's tired groan follows Minerva as the scene fades, though she doesn't return to her body. Instead, she finds herself floating in darkness again, slowly becoming aware of a much larger psionic presence than her own. Unlike the heavy and hard pressure of the Bright Ones, the presence reminds her of those precious moments on a winter's morning when she has just the right amount of blankets wrapped around her and it feels like nothing bad can touch her.

Minerva unashamedly wallows in the feeling, every fiber of her heart, mind, and soul soaking in the comfort offered. An untold amount of time later, a voice comes whispering through the dark, soft and inquisitive and warm as early summer.

_**Hello, child. It has been ever so long since someone has attempted to reach out so deeply to me. I wonder if you would tell me why you long for such a deep connection to somewhere you've never been and may never be?** _

Minerva is reluctant to drag her attention away from the gloriousness of the sensations surrounding and cradling her, but she's not one to disregard a direct question from a being far older and wiser than herself.

“I seek a home. Mine was destroyed, partially through my own actions, and I... I seek belonging. Family. Friends. Where I am now, there are those who are acquaintances at best, but my true friends are so far away from me,” she replies, her voice lowering to a sad murmur at her last confession.

_**You seek more than that, I think. Redemption, perhaps?** _

Minerva shudders. The presence has cut to the quick. It's not wrong, but she's not sure how much redemption she can attain even with her longer life.

“Maybe,” she admits, “but perhaps peace more than redemption. What I did cannot be undone, and I doubt I'll ever fully be redeemed for my actions, but I would like to be somewhere that I can make a good difference in the universe. I'm not sure I can truly do that where I am now.”

The presence hums, the sound reminding Minerva of the rumble of distant thunder.

_**Perhaps, perhaps not. You are precious to two of my own, Mhinherva** _ **na** **_Sirali. I am... limited as to what I can do directly. I have no Speaker, no envoy of my own to plead your case or tell my own of your well-being. But perhaps... Perhaps I can help you in some fashion until you are able to reconnect more fully with your beloveds._ **

Minerva considers that, not entirely sure of what to say.

“If I agree, what is the price?”

There's always a price for such deals. The myths and legends sing of such things going awry when the deals are broken or the price refused to be paid, and Minerva isn't about to pledge herself to a being that wants to manipulate and abuse her, no matter how soothing its presence may be.

_**The price? Oh, my dear child, you have been sorely used, haven't you? Should you accept, all I ask is that you do your best to come here. If you cannot, then no harm will befall you.** _ A hint of amusement enters the presence's voice.  **_Though something tells me that your beloveds would rip the universe itself apart if it meant they could speak to you again, let alone see you well and hearty in person. If you do make it to my Sphere, all I would ask is that you become one of my protectors. One of your Chosen already holds that title in a role that pleases me, and I have little doubt you could work alongside him wonderfully. Does that sound agreeable to you, dear one?_ **

Minerva is stunned.  _ That's _ the price to be paid? Her greatest desire? She's not sure how much of a price that really is, to be honest. Surely there's something more to all of this.

“And that's it?”

_**I give you my word.** _

“I...” Minerva wishes she had the ability to have hands, because she sorely wants to run them over her head as she thinks. “What would I even call you?” she asks, more than a little lost.

There's a rich laugh that surrounds her, bringing to mind rushing rivers and thundering hooves. 

_**I have had and will have many names in the past, present, and future, but you may call me Terra. I look forward to seeing you in my Sphere, Mhinherva, but for now, I believe it is time for you to wake. Go and be well. I will be waiting eagerly for you.** _

Terra's presence fades gently like the last ray of sunlight in evening, though a remnant stays behind to weave itself into the fabric of the shield Duck and Leo's bonds have created, strengthening it and protecting Minerva from the buffeting of the psionic currents once more. She finds herself ever so slowly waking from her journey, the gentle glow of the coals in the brazier nearly entirely faded as the coals collapse into ash.

The itching has faded almost completely, leaving only the mud to pull faintly against her skin. Sohkahr, who has been watching Minerva closely throughout the long hours of her inner journey, helps her to sit up and drink from a cup of blessedly cool and fresh water. Minerva has to force herself to drink slowly, her throat and mouth feeling equally parched and rough.

When she's had enough water, Sohkahr guides her to the last cavern, helping her into a shallow pool that is at just the right temperature to melt the mud away from her skin when assisted by a soft cloth and gentle scrubbing. The last of the mud coming away leaves Minerva feeling raw and exposed. Sohkahr smiles warmly at her before helping her out of the pool and assisting in drying her off with a soft and fluffy towel.

She's wrapped in a silken robe for the final touch and then brought before a mirror, Sohkahr stepping away so she can focus on just herself. Minerva looks over her reflection, eyes widening in awe as she takes in the gently shimmering _glema_ now present just under her skin. They follow the lines of her limbs and torso, curving here and there in accordance to an internal logic only the gods can know.

More importantly than that, though, Minerva revels in the fact that she can feel Duck and Leo's bonds still, even if they are as dim as before. The background hum of her connection to Terra is dim as well, but still comforting even with lightyears separating them. She turns to Sohkahr, tightening the tie of the robe around her waist more securely.

“Now what?”

“Now, we celebrate.”

  


At first, Minerva enjoys the celebration of her coming of age the next evening. It's wonderful to hear the congratulations and to enjoy the food provided, but as time goes on, she starts to feel a sense of unease. The party has far more important people than she's expected it to, and dealing with so many people in a concentrated space is tiring, even with her newly established mental shields firmly in place.

Her unease is cemented when Bahsteyt brings her up onto a small stage near the front of the room and calls for the party-goers' attention.

“Thank you all for coming here tonight and celebrating Mhinherva's successful completion of the Rites of Ascension,” Bahsteyt says, her voice carrying easily throughout the banquet room where the celebration is being held. “She has walked a hard path few have ever contemplated in order to get here, and as such, the Bright Ones have decreed she is to be rewarded for her perseverance and dedication to her people.”

Minerva forces a small smile as polite applause rings out, her mind racing. What are the Bright Ones playing at here? Rewarded? _Her_? Surely not. Surely there must be some sort of catch or trick she's not seeing here.

“As such, they have decreed that she be given a dwelling in the Temple District near the Seven Stars Temple, as befits the status of such a valiant warrior and disciple of the gods. Her needs will be seen to by a dedicated staff as she reacclimates to being among so many of our people once more,” Bahsteyt continues on, and then the copper drops, feeling as if it's settled directly into the pit of Minerva's stomach.

The renewed clapping fades to white noise as she realizes what's happening. It's not a reward at all. The Bright Ones clearly have no idea what to do with her, and if she's reading the situation right, likely fear that what came to pass for their now-lost brethren may happen to them. No, the house and its attendant staff isn't a reward at all, not truly.

It's a prison.


	4. Every Moment I'm Awake, the Further I'm Away

Minerva settles into her new home, the unease she feels at the whole situation fading into a background ache that she can feel in her very bones. It's something she lives with every day even as she explores the area around the dwelling. She's never without an escort in the shape of one of the house staff, though usually it's passed off as one of the kitchen workers or maids needing to go to the market at the same time she does, and won't it save a trip if both of them go at the same time?

That's another thing she can't stand. Minerva has always been responsible for doing her own chores since she was old enough to handle them, with cooking her meals and mending her clothes coming at an age-appropriate time. Having so many people constantly in her home and leaving her with little else to do but attend to her weapons, meditate, go through her forms, and sleep grates against her very soul, which is why she tries to stay out of the house as much as possible.

She learns her way around the market, getting to know the vendors there and trading things she makes back and forth for goods and food. Most of what she gets are things she needs- a new whetstone, a serviceable dagger, and so on -but one day, she finds a stall that's selling small wooden figurines of various fantastical animals. Minerva's not sure what draws here there, but she comes away with a feline that has a large ruff of fur around its head and an avian with a pleasantly plump body, webbed feet, and a rounded bill. Both of them are some of the more plain offerings at the stall, but Minerva doesn't have eyes for anything else.

The figurines find a home on the bedside table later that night, adding a bit of warmth and personality to the otherwise plain room. Minerva falls asleep with her eyes focused on them, a small smile warming her face.

Wisps of dreams pass through Minerva's mind, the flickering bits of images going past before her mental eyes finally focusing and catching on the surprisingly peaceful setting of a a snowy forest. Unlike most dreams where the senses play little if any true part in the proceedings, Minerva finds that the opposite is true for her. She can feel the bite of cold against her skin, hear the crunch of snow under her feet, and the warm weight of winter clothing on her body.

She breathes in, the cold lightly burning her throat and lungs in a cleansing way. Minerva stands there, eyes half-closed as she enjoys her surroundings. She turns when she hears snow crunching behind her, a brilliant smile illuminating her face and her _glema_ going a vibrant and happy blue-green hue when she sees who it is.

“Duck Newton!”

Her Chosen is wearing a puffy jacket, pants made from a thick and heavy material Minerva doesn't recognize, and sturdy boots as he walks through the snow. He comes to a halt when he hears her voice, disbelief furrowing his brow before it clears due to a grin of his own, the corners of his eyes crinkling in deep happiness.

“Shit, _Minerva_?”

Minerva nods, the urge to pull him close rising sharply in her and causing her to all but vibrate out of her skin. “Duck Newton, I would really, _really_ like to embrace you right now. May I?”

It takes a moment for Duck to register what she's asking, but the moment he nods his assent, Minerva is closing the short few strides that separate the two of them. The first hug that she willingly initiates in nearly a hundred years is _amazing,_ made even more so because it's Duck she's wrapping her arms around. Duck hugs her back, the pressure of his arms encircling her torso deeply comforting rather than restricting.

Minerva is glad that this dream is more like the true world than dreams usually are, because she thinks she would have found the hug unsatisfying otherwise. Duck is maybe a few inches shorter than she is, but the difference isn't so great as to make things awkward. A mischievous impulse flashes through her, and before she can double-guess herself, she tightens her grip on Duck and lifts him off his feet, spinning the two of them around in a joyous circle and causing the snow on the ground to fly up in a sharp spray.

Duck yelps before breaking out into startled laughter as he holds on to her. Minerva sets him back down on his feet after a full spin, making sure he's stable before she lets him go, albeit reluctantly.

“I knew you were strong, but fuck, Minerva, I wasn't expecting _that_ ,” Duck says, shaking his head in fond amusement. Minerva is glad that it's cold, as she can blame the flush of her cheeks on the weather rather than the way her stomach turns pleasantly at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, well, now you know,” she replies. “How... how have you been since we last spoke?”

Duck rubs at the back of his neck with a gloved hand with a sigh. “We got the hunt taken care of, but it wasn't the best,” he said. “Leo and I've been training together, so that's great. Billy- that's what we named the goat man I saved -he's been living with Ned at the Cryptonomica and gettin' used to life here on Earth. It's been really weird not being able to see you most nights.”

Minerva's smile fades some. “I'm sorry. The mechanism that allowed me to reach out to you has been destroyed. I-”

She takes a seat on a nearby log, barely pausing to brush the snow from it before sitting down. Duck sits next to her, resting his forearms on his thighs as he waits patiently for her to continue speaking. Minerva tells him of the arrival of the other Mira and her subsequent move from Five to Seven. She speaks of the coming of age ritual, pausing after Duck makes a muted noise in the back of his throat when he hears of the way the bonds between the two of them and Leo have changed.

“Wait, wait, wait, go back,” he says. “Are you telling me Earth is _alive_? I mean, more than plants and animals and shit?”

“I'm not sure how it works,” Minerva admits. “I know how things work for the Orbital Bodies and the Bright Ones, but Terra may not hold a similar form as the Bright Ones.”

“Huh.”

Duck stares off into the distance, contemplating that for a minute or so before shaking his head. “I'll figure that out later, I think,” he says finally. “Do, uh, do you think they have something you can use there on Seven like you did on Five?”

“The psionic resonator?” Minerva hums, thinking. “Perhaps. I'm not sure where it might be kept, but I'll certainly look. I miss being able to easily speak with you and Leo as well.”

She sits back, the warmth of Duck's body next to hers solid and grounding. “I think,” she says, her voice as hushed as the snow that begins to fall around them, “that if I had the chance, I would go to Earth and not look back.”

Duck shoots her a surprised look. “You don't want to stay with your people?”

Minerva laughs roughly. “They are hardly my people, Duck. Sure, they look and sound like me, but _my_ people are no longer around. They lie in graves or are spread across the land as ashes. Those here have not been cruel, but they haven't been truly kind, either. I am only alone when I sleep or bathe, and even then there are still others in the house I've been 'gifted'. I had more freedom when I was trapped in a city of the dead than I do dwelling in a city of the living. I'm a prisoner in all but name and bindings.”

One of Duck's arms snakes around her waist and pulls her into a side-hug. Minerva sinks in against him, soaking up the comfort he's offering her.

“If there's any way I can help on my end, let me know,” Duck says quietly. “I don't like to see you hurting if I can help it.”

“Just being here is helping, but thank you nonetheless.”

Duck nods and then falls silent. The two of them watch the snow fall together until the dream blurs and fades away.

The shared dreams occur every few nights, with Leo occasionally joining them in their night-time conversations. They don't always take place in the snowy forest the first one did, but Minerva enjoys them nonetheless. It's hard not to try to stay asleep all the time, but she also knows it's not healthy to dwell on something she can't control.

True to her word, Minerva starts to explore more of the city, seeking any news of another psionic resonator. She can't find anything in the more common areas of the city, so she begins to look at places like the temple that is near her home. The Seven Stars Temple is much like the one she grew up in, with its acolytes and masters in brilliantly hued robes of golds and pale grays that mimic Aisys and Osairys' natural colors.

Minerva manages to lose her ever-present shadow by taking advantage of a crowded corridor and her greater knowledge of the likely layout of the temple. Its footprint is similar enough to the Three Clouds Temple that she's able to slip away and head towards where she thinks the psionic resonating chamber is located. She has to remind herself that this is just a scouting mission when she comes across a likely looking area, slowing her pace and cautiously peeking into the rooms that open onto the hall she's wandering through.

One of the last unlocked doors she opens hides her prize. Minerva doubts she has much time to get a truly good look around the chamber, but from what she can tell, it looks similar enough to the one back on Five that she should be able to work it when she has her sword and enough time at hand. Satisfied, Minerva closes the door and begins to make her way back to the more well traveled areas of the temple, memorizing the route she takes so she can get back to the chamber with relative ease at a later time.

She feels a bit like an initiate creeping about in an attempt to sneak a sweet-cake from the temple kitchens. Minerva grins. Perhaps she can find something in the market to act as a reward for her successful reconnaissance mission. The internal debate of whether or not she wants something sweet or savory takes her through the halls, a pleasant diversion from the imminent return to the stultifying reality of her current existence.

The urge for something sweet is starting to win out over savory when Minerva exits out into a large courtyard. The statues of various gods in carefully curated plant-surrounded niches and alcoves around its perimeter mark it as a remembrance garden. She slows her pace in respect to those who have gone before her, her boots echoing faintly against the flagstones that pave the courtyard.

Startlingly familiar voices draw Minerva's attention away from her contemplation of her future food choices. She turns her head, coming to a complete stop when she sees the owners of the voices. It's an impossible vision, and yet not twenty paces away from here are several members of the High Council from Five.

Words fail Minerva for quite some time. She watches the Councilors make their rounds of the garden, frozen in the shade of the alcove she's stopped in front of. When she finally regains her senses, Minerva can't help but call out to those she's thought long-dead, even if she hadn't seen their bodies personally.

“C-Councilor Jahnis? Councilors Deysema and Mahrs?”

The three Councilors turn at the sound of their names, surprise flashing across Jahnis's face before it's replaced with a smile that, while pleasant, is entirely devoid of actual warmth.

“Ah, Mhinherva! We had been told you were living nearby. We weren't expecting to see you... _here_.”

A thousand questions race through Minerva's brain over the next few seconds before one settles at the forefront and then tumbles out of her mouth without a second thought.

“How are you alive?”

The three Councilors exchange weighty looks before Mahrs steps forward with a placating smile.

“That is rather complicated,” he says, “and this is hardly the place to discuss it. Why don't we go inside or somewhere more private?”

“I'd rather not, thank you,” Minerva replies, not wanting to be stuck somewhere she can't get out of. She's had enough of that recently to fill three lifetimes. “I would like an answer, please.”

“We took precautions, that's all,” Deysema chimes in with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just as any smart person would do.”

Minerva's expression goes flat. “Precautions,” she echoes, her stomach souring as the light fully dawns and the Council's actions are revealed. “You _ran_. You ran from a weapon of your own making, leaving others to die in your stead... and to take the blame.”

That's what rankles the most. They headed the war effort, let children take the burden of grown adults, and then when it all went downhill, fled for their lives rather than face the fates of their own making like they should have, leaving everyone else to die in their place. None of the Councilors have an ounce of shame between them at her accusations.

Minerva stares at them, her _glema_ beginning to shift to a deep shimmering crimson in her rising anger. “You're all cowards,” she spits out, hands curling into fists against her sides.

“Come, now, you would've done the same in our place,” Deysema says. “Besides, that's all in the past.” She draws herself up to her full height, seemingly unconcerned about Minerva's growing anger. “We're here now. Perhaps one day we will be able to return to Five, but that's in the future. Speaking of...”

She folds her hands in front of her. “Now, you're here alone, and you are young. One of us can take you into our family so you'll have the proper connections later in life, be that by adoption or by marr-”

“ _No_.”

Minerva glares at Deysema, trembling gently. Her tongue presses against the back of her teeth as she tries to focus and not lash out horribly at the Councilors. They've trained her for war, after all, while they've lived lives of relative peace and prosperity, the death of Five notwithstanding. She's still a finely-honed weapon, even with the decades of disuse, and very capable of dealing great harm if necessary.

She just hopes it won't be.

“Don't be foolish,” Jahnis tells her with a sharp tone. “You won't last very long without those connections. Do you want to be continually relying on others for charity for the rest of your life?”

“ _ **Fuck you**_ ,” Minerva retorts, shifting to English in her anger. It's greatly satisfying to know that while the Councilors might not understand the exact meaning, they can get enough context given the tone and inflection. She turns on her heel and strides away, her wayward escort finally catching up with her as she exits the temple.

Minerva ignores any and all communications that come from the Councilors and those associated with them in the coming days, eventually sending a tersely worded letter to Bahsteyt requesting that the Councilors cease trying to continue their campaign of assimilation. She doesn't hear anything back from the First Hand, but the Councilors do stop pressing her to abandon her family name and take on one of theirs.

It's almost exactly four months after the resonator on Five has ceased to work when Minerva is jolted awake from a deep sleep in the dead of night, Leo and Duck's names echoing faintly in the air. Minerva stares into the darkness for several heartbeats before quickly and quietly getting out of bed, barely pausing to pull on a long tunic and leggings on her way out of the room. She sneaks through the house, gathering up her sword and scabbard as she goes, avoiding the creaking spots of the wooden floor she's all but memorized by now.

She makes it out to the back garden without being stopped, and then, after a quick check to see that no one is watching from a window, scales the plaster and stone wall with a swiftness that belies her size. Once she's firmly on the ground on the other side, Minerva straps the belt of the scabbard diagonally across her back, makes sure it's well-secured, and then begins to run, keeping to the shadows as much as she can. Her destination looms in front of her after only a few brief minutes of travel, its front gates shut tight against the night.

Minerva ignores the gates and heads down a small alley that runs alongside the temple. She was a student once, after all, and students throughout the ages have always had ways of escaping from the confines of their education to go and enjoy the freedoms more readily available outside the temple walls. She finds what she's looking for in subtle hand- and foot-holds marked out on the wall and makes quick use of them, levering herself over the top and onto the walkway beyond.

Her bare feet slap against the hard floor of the temple as she moves through it, but Minerva's at the point where complete stealth isn't the highest priority. She wrenches the door of the resonance chamber open, lunging inside and only just stopping the door from slamming shut behind her. It's the work of a quick moment to barricade the door enough to make it hard to get in after her, though it won't entirely stop a determined person from getting inside.

The mechanism is easy enough to work and identical to the one on Five, a small blessing Minerva sends a quick prayer of thanks for up to any gods that may be watching over her. The machinery is achingly loud, part of why Minerva has built her makeshift barricade, and is more than likely going to draw the attention of anyone nearby. She ignores it, unbuckling her scabbard from her back before drawing her sword from it.

Minerva takes the hilt in both hands as the central platform lights up beneath her with an eerie actinic blue light, turns the blade downwards, and then slides it home into the slot in the center of the low plinth at her feet. The light flares around her before her mind is sent hurtling through time and space faster than the speed of thought, her only focus that of the bonds she shares with her Chosen. The world and the once-lost strength of the bonds snap back into being as Minerva opens her eyes and finds herself standing on a hard surface that curves gently up towards the sky like a cup in all directions.

Duck is there, as is a glowing four-armed being. They're fighting, and much to Minerva's delight, Duck is clearly destined to be the victor of this battle. She feels his rush of grim satisfaction through the bond as his opponent is defeated, only to be startled when the grievously wounded being turns and conjures up a rift that shines with brilliant white light. Even in her astral form, Minerva finds the intensity of the light discomforting; she can't imagine what it feels like for Duck.

The light pulses after a minute or so of the rift's creation, sundering the glowing being in two and dissolving it into motes of light before the rift closes. Duck stands panting where he's stopped, his weapons held loosely in his hands.

“Duck Newton, what was _that_?”

Duck spins around, blades coming up instinctively into a guarded position before realization sets in.

“ _Minerva?_ ”

Minerva smiles brightly. “I don't have much time to talk, Duck, but I couldn't stay away. I had a vision of you and Leo in mortal peril, but I'm glad to see that the danger has been averted for the time being.”

Duck makes a strangled noise before hurrying over to the side of the broad dish they are in and peering over. Minerva joins him there, the two of them breathing matching sighs of relief when they see Leo alive and being tended to by someone Minerva assumes is one of the allies of her Chosen. Duck slumps down, his swords clattering against the polished surface of the telescope. Minerva kneels down next to him, wishing she could properly reach out and touch him.

“You've done well, my friend, and I'm sorry I've left you without help for so long.”

Duck shakes his head. “Nah, 's not your fault, Min,” he says, waving his hand in an exhausted dismissive motion. “You're pretty strong, but I don't think even you could punch a fuckin' meteor out of the sky.”

Minerva laughs, and when she speaks next, it's impossible to keep the deep fondness out of her voice. “Perhaps not,” she agrees, “but nonetheless, I am proud of you, Duck, and only wish I could be there to tell you in the flesh.”

“Think that'll ever happen?”

Minerva worries her bottom lip between her teeth, turning to look out over the landscape beyond their high perch. “Perhaps. I may be able to-”

Two things happen before she is able to finish her sentence. First, the top of a nearby mountain lifts itself up from its resting spot before slamming back down with an almighty _thud_ , and then second, rough hands drag her away from her sword. Minerva tumbles back into her body with the sound of Duck's startled shout echoing in her ears.

She finds herself staring up at the ceiling of the resonance chamber, a temple guard hauling her back as the platform goes quiescent. Minerva blinks a few times to allow her vision to settle and then, ever so slowly, a grin spreads across her face.

Whatever happens next, her bonds with Duck and Leo can't be diminished unless the resonator is utterly destroyed or she dies, and something tells her that neither will happen for a very, _very_ long time.


	5. Across the Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, we reach the end of our journey. Thank you all for sticking with me through this! I realized this worked better as pre-relationship rather than establishing one in-story about halfway through this chapter, so sorry about the change. If you ever want to check out the Ducknerva Discord Server, come join us [here](https://discord.gg/4UUJnu4).
> 
> And as always, reviews, comments, and Kudos are more than welcome!

Minerva's stunt at the temple sees her confined more stringently to her house, and if she does need to go out, there's always an armed escort with her. If anyone asks, it's played off as her having a bodyguard, but she knows the truth. They don't trust her, and likely think her a danger to others, if not herself as well. After all, they have no idea who it is she's made contact with, if any, or if her actions were simply those of a madwoman. Minerva's not about to correct them, after all, not now that she's in full contact with Duck and Leo once more.

They argue about taking away her weapons, but in the end it proves fruitless, as doing so will draw more attention to the oddities surrounding her living situation since it's expected for every Mira of age to have a weapon of their own unless absolutely necessary. Her sword is grudgingly returned to her by the temple guards, though it comes with the strict ruling that she is only to have access to it while in the confines of her house, leaving her with just a dagger at her hip when she goes to the market.

Minerva continues to work with Duck and Leo in the roughly two month gap between hunts, imparting as many lessons and tricks she can remember now that she has the chance. The shared dreams continue as well, though with less frequency than before. It rankles that she's not able to physically help her Chosen in their work, but that's a state of affairs Minerva is used to by now, so she supposes she can't complain overly much.

When she's not sharing them with Duck and Leo, her dreams are filled with heavy premonitions of what's to come. Whether it's due to her increased connection with Terra, her Chosen, or both, Minerva doesn't know, but she's not about to disregard the warnings given to her, either, even if they mostly deal with strange creatures of red mist and an unbearable pressure. That pressure comes to a head one night when she has a dream- no, a _vision_ -of a raging storm of energy that erupts out of the gate in Kepler, devouring everything in its path.

The only saving grace in the whole thing is a moment when the vision lingers on the sight of Leo holding his broadsword in both hands, taking a deep breath, and then making a decisive motion horizontally through the air, the blade meeting far more resistance than would be expected from the movement. Rifts open all around the town, red light gleaming through them. Minerva wakes with a purpose the next morning, eyes bright and head clear.

She may not be able to be there physically, but she'll be damned if she doesn't help those she cares for to survive.

The problem with the visions is that they don't give a good time frame on when they might occur, which leaves Minerva with likely precious little time to drill Leo on what he needs to know. Opening rifts is one of the more complex skills a Mira warrior can possess, and she has no idea how Leo will handle it. The vision gives her hope, though, even with its ominous atmosphere.

She begins to train him the night of the vision in dreams, moving on to psionic projection throughout the next day. By the time things come to a head and plans are set into motion, Minerva has worked with Leo for long enough that she's relatively confident he can succeed in what he needs to do. She stays with him as he makes his way to a flat area near where Mount Kepler lost its peak, one of the werewolves from the Lodge accompanying him as backup while the others go to the gate as backup.

Minerva maintains a silent vigil as Leo waits for the signal to open the rifts, settling into a comfortable kneeling position with her sword placed flat across her thighs. She's locked herself in her bedroom for this crucial time period, making sure she's well-stocked with food, water, and something to relieve herself in just in case. Wars aren't usually won in a matter of minutes or even hours, not without near-divine intervention or an overpowering weapon, and she knows that Duck and the others don't have the latter, though the first...

Well, anything can be done with magic, she supposes.

She stays until the last of the invading beasts are slain and no further ones come in through the rift that Leo and his companion are defending for a good few minutes, letting the projection fade after wishing Leo well. When she goes to get up to her feet, Minerva finds herself stumbling as the feeling and blood returns to her now-extended legs in a rush, sending an uncomfortable prickling going through her limbs. She sinks onto the bed after placing her sword to one side, gingerly rubbing her legs until the prickling fades to a dull ache.

Her bladder sets up its own protest, and now that she's not in the middle of spectating the battle, she makes for the bathroom and takes care of that issue. Once everything is settled and she has some food in her, Minerva locks the door once again and goes to her bed, figuring it'll be more comfortable than the floor she's been sitting on previously. She tries to reach out to Duck, wanting to see how he's getting on, but finds the bond oddly dull and fuzzy, as if something is interfering with the connection.

Minerva takes several deep breaths in and out, doing her best to remain calm as she tries once, twice, three times to connect over the next half hour or so. A quick test reveals that she can still contact Leo, so she knows the bonds still work. Perhaps whatever it is that Duck is doing on Sylvain is causing the interference. She can only hope that it hasn't affected his regained strength and vitality.

All she can do it wait.

One hour turns into two, and then two into four. Minerva finds herself pacing her room, her circuits tight and worried. Her exhaustion gets the better of her after six hours without any contact from Duck, and she finds herself curling onto her bed, the little figurine of the avian from the market cradled in her hands. Its smooth surface is comforting to run her fingers over. Minerva traces her thumbs over its round body until her eyes fall shut and sleep overtakes her.

She startles awake some time later to a harried pounding echoing through the house. Minerva pulls on a fresh tunic and leggings before stumbling out to the front door and opening it. Bahsteyt is there with a small knot of heavily armored and armed warriors, something that sends Minerva's stomach plummeting.

“First Hand. What can I help you with?” she asks, her voice rough from sleep.

“You can come with us, Mhinherva. Your expertise is needed.” Bahsteyt looks her up and down and then sighs sharply. “There is time for you to get dressed properly. Go and get prepared for a fight.”

Minerva's brain still feels weighed down with sleep but she does as commanded, returning with her armor on and sword in hand. Out of an impulse, she's tucked the two small figurines from the market into one of the larger pouches hanging from her belt, wanting them close by for comfort. Bahsteyt nods sharply once before leading the way out of the house and into the city, the warriors surrounding Minerva in an mobile wall. Their final destination ends up being one of the larger central squares of the city.

The quiet emptiness of the square is the first thing Minerva notices, followed by the fact that there are barricades set up at all entrances to it. The final thing she sees, and something that makes her heart skip a beat, is the achingly familiar sight of a stone archway standing in the center of the square. It's inert at the moment, but she is aware of the fact that its quiescence can change at any point.

Bahsteyt gestures for the warriors to spread out across the square and surround the archway in a wide perimeter before turning to Minerva.

“Well? What usually happens with it? When will the enemies be coming?”

Minerva shrugs helplessly. “I don't know,” she replies. “It was always about every fifty-six days or so back on Five, but I don't know how it'll be here. It could be faster or slower.”

The presence of the archway worries her. Does it mean that Duck and his companions have been unsuccessful in their task? She knows that Duck is still alive, as their bond is thrumming away dully at the back of her mind, but that's _all_ she knows. Bahsteyt frowns as she stares at the archway and then snaps her fingers once.

One of the warriors steps forward at her signal, saluting crisply.

“Ma'am?”

“Go get a pavilion tent,” Bahsteyt commands. “Set it up...” She gestures to a large area of the square a reasonable distance away from the arch but still within the cordoned-off perimeter. “...there. Set up a rotating watch around the clock. We will use half the tent as a command area and half as a temporary barracks.”

The warrior salutes once more before turning and gathering several of her fellows to join her in fulfilling the task assigned to her. While they wait for the large tent to be brought and then set up, Minerva and Bahsteyt keep an eye on the gate, though with vastly different hopes and expectations for the outcome of it activating. Minerva knows it's silly to expect it to come to life and for Duck to stroll through it without a care in the universe, but she is also well aware that the heart is never the most logical of things when it comes to hopes and dreams.

Once the tent is set up and furnished with some quickly sourced cots, tables, and chairs, Bahsteyt settles into her command, keeping Minerva at her side while the others watch the archway. Minerva finds herself pacing the longer time stretches without any activity from the archway, her circuit taking her around the interior of the tent and passing by the open flaps of the entrance. She glances out every time she walks past, the unchanging stone shape of the archway mocking her with every round she makes.

Eventually, she tucks herself into a corner of the tent and sinks into a meditative state, trying to reach out with everything that she has to ascertain Duck's state of being. He is still living, that much she knows, but it's a meager comfort. Time moves strangely while she meditates, moving in fits and starts. The noise of the world around her fades away to a background hum, the tense emotional landscape lessening along with it, something that helps her concentrate better.

The sounds of her name being repeated several times in quick succession draws Minerva out of her meditation, and when she opens her eyes, she finds that night has fallen, her limbs are stiff, and Bahsteyt is standing in front of her, the tension clearly visible in her stance.

“First Hand?”

“The archway has activated.”

Minerva scrambles to her feet, listing to one side as her legs reawaken. She shakes them out before scooping up her sword and joining Bahsteyt as she strides out of the tent. The archway is indeed alight, the white glow coming from the center throwing stark shadows across the flagstones of the square around it. Portable lights are illuminating the rest of the square, allowing all waiting to see what is happening. The warriors have shrunk their security circumference, their various weapons gleaming in the low light.

Minerva watches the archway intently, the grip on her sword tight but not hard enough to hurt her hand. It's an interminably prolonged stretch of time before the light filling the archway ripples. A strange man steps through, golden-blond hair tousled artfully on top of his head. He's wearing what Minerva now recognizes as a t-shirt and jeans, the former of which is a plain white while the latter are the usual dark blue hue Minerva is used to seeing Duck wear. He looks around before stepping to one side, hands stuck in his pockets.

Minerva's heart leaps when the light ripples again, this time disgorging two others. One, Minerva doesn't really recognize, but the second... The second has her stepping forward with a brilliant smile.

“Duck Newton!” she calls out in English, joy echoing in every syllable she speaks. “What in all the universe are you doing _here_?”

Duck turns when he hears his name, a look of intense relief appearing as he spots her and starts making his way towards her. Minerva's sword clatters unheedingly to the ground, abandoned quickly by its owner. She's sure it's confusing to those watching, but she has no energy to spare to explain what is going on. Instead, all of her attention is focused on the quickly approaching form of her Chosen, her heart singing with joy.

Being able to finally embrace Duck in person is even more wondrous than she ever dreamed. Minerva finds herself clinging tightly to him, tears springing unbidden to her eyes and making their quick escape. The two of them collapse into a messy tangle of limbs as they sink to the hard ground, arms wrapped in a fierce grip around one another. Duck runs a soothing hand over her back as Minerva releases twenty years of emotion and longing to see him, his own tears dampening the fabric of her tunic even as he comforts her.

She sits back as the tears finally begin to ebb, her _glema_ going a deep and shimmering blue that nonetheless stands out against her skin.

“Tell me... gods, tell me _everything_ ,” she says, brushing away the tears with an impatient hand before clinging to Duck's once more. “How did you get here? What happened to you after you stepped through the archway on Earth? Does Sylvain still stand?”

Duck laughs and squeezes her hands. “That's a story that's gonna take a lot longer than what we have here,” he tells her. “I, uh, long story short, we met up with the assholes who created the archways, Beacon killed all but one with his assholery, and then the one good one- remember Billy? -linked us up here. Sorry it took so long to get here. It took a while for him to figure out where to open a new archway since the old one you had was, y'know, on a different planet.”

“And likely destroyed,” Minerva muses, thinking of the meteor collision. “But... you won. Why did you come here?”

Duck huffs before shaking his head. “I had the chance to see you,” he says. “Why wouldn't I take it?”

Minerva doesn't quite know what to do with that. She pushes it aside, resolving to think on it later, and then nods. “Alright. I... I don't know if I can show you around very much. I... The, uh, _rules_ about where and when I can go places have been strengthened since I broke into a temple to use the resonance chamber to reconnect with you and Leo.”

Duck looks over Minerva's shoulder, his expression going flat. “Are any of the ones watching us the people in charge?”

Minerva glances back before turning her attention back to Duck. “Yes, but Bahsteyt is a cunning warrior and I wouldn't want you trying to move against her. Besides, I'm not sure she would be able to understand you. She doesn't speak English, after all.”

Duck frowns deeply but nods anyways, albeit with a clear amount of reluctance. “Fine.” As he speaks, his thumbs sweep over the back of Minerva's hands in an unconscious motion. “Would you- I mean-” He takes in a deep breath and starts over. “I don't like the idea of leavin' you here, Minnie. Would you want to come back to Earth with us? You're already, y'know, _linked_ there. Might as well make it official.”

Minerva hesitates. She wants nothing more to go to Earth with Duck, but she will stick out like a sore thumb if she does. From what she's seen of those from Earth, none are as... extravagantly colored as she is, and nor do any of them have _glema_. She doesn't relish being treated as _other_ , but if it's a choice between that or being kept prisoner the rest of her days... Well, perhaps Kepler will be more accommodating after seeing the proof of non-human life.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I... I do not look like a human.”

Duck shakes his head. “Neither did Billy, but we got him fixed up with a glamour watch that made him look human, and he was a goat-man before. I bet we could do the same for you easy as pie.”

Well. That's... Minerva considers that and then nods, biting her lower lip briefly. “I would like that, Duck Newton, more than anything in the universe.” She smiles lopsidedly. “Though you and Leo Tarkesian will need to teach me quite a bit more about Earth, I think.”

Duck flashes her a grin. “We can definitely do that.”

Before either of them can say more, the blond man wanders over, an orb-shaped device held in his hands. He manipulates the orb, fingers tapping against its surface, before a slightly mechanical voice emerges from the device.

“ _Hey, do you speak English?_ ”

Minerva blinks. “Yes, I do. I suppose you're Billy?”

“ _That's me. Think you could speak a little into this translator in your language so I can talk with your people? Gotta start apologizing for... well, everything._ ”

Minerva arches an eyebrow and then begins speaking in Mira, reciting a short poem she learned as a child before saying a few more common phrases. Billy keeps an eye on the translator, flashing her a quick smile when its white hue shifts briefly to a pale green.

“ _Great, thanks. I'm gonna go talk to whoever's in charge here. They're looking pretty antsy over there._ ”

Minerva glances back at Bahsteyt and the others before gesturing at the former. “That's Bahsteyt. She's second-in-command to the leaders of this Orbital Body. Her formal title is First Hand. You should probably lead with that.”

“ _Will do. And thanks._ ”

Billy wanders off, leaving the two of them alone. Duck gets to his feet, pulling Minerva up with him.

“C'mon, let's get going. There're a lot of people I want you to meet.”

Minerva nods and follows after him, joining the last member of the party near the archway. The woman standing there is too old to be Aubrey, Minerva knows that much. She inclines her head at the stranger in greeting.

“Hello.”

“Hi there. Duck, who's this?”

“This is Minerva,” Duck replies. “Minerva, this is Mama. She's the leader of the Pine Guard.”

Minerva places a hand over her heart and bows in respect. “An honor to meet you, Mama,” she says as she straightens up. “I wasn't expecting all of this to happen, to be honest.”

“Neither were we, but here we are. You stayin' here with her, Duck?”

Duck shakes his head. “Nah, we're all going back to Earth. Well, don't know about Billy, but I figure he's got his own stuff to do, y'know? Anyways, figured we could hook Minerva up with a glamour token when we get back.”

Mama eyes Minerva and then shrugs. “We'll have to see what we've got, and if nothing else, she can hang around the Lodge until we can contact Indrid.”

It's surprising how quickly all of it is sorted after that, in Minerva's opinion. Bahsteyt comes over with Billy in tow after a few minutes of intense conversation, looking deeply disapproving of what's going on but also well-aware that she can't stop it.

“So, you'll be going through that archway to their planet, Mhinerva?” Bahsteyt asks in terse Mira.

Minerva nods. “I am.” She straightens up into textbook posture and gives Bahsteyt a deep bow. “Thank you for all that you and those here have done for me, but it's time I moved on to a new life and a new path. I will leave my sword here. May it serve someone else well.”

Bahsteyt regards her for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “Very well. I will give your regards to Sohkahr and Mayhen. I know they will miss you deeply. May the stars and gods guide your path until you find your final home, Mhinerva _na_ Sirali. I am sorry that you were not able to find that here, but perhaps it will be better in the long term for you to seek it elsewhere.”

“Perhaps so.”

“ _Y'all, the connection isn't gonna last much longer,_ ” Billy warns them. “ _If you want to get back to Earth, now's the time to do it. The portal to Earth will still be open on the outpost, so it'll be a straight shot._ ”

“You going to be okay here?” Duck asks.

Billy shrugs. “ _I'll be fine, don't worry. And Duck?_ ”

“Yeah?”

“ _Thanks._ ”

With that, Billy wanders off again, Bahsteyt following after him. Duck turns to Minerva as Mama steps back through the portal, extending one hand to her.

“Ready to go home?”

Minerva smiles and takes his hand.

“I am.”

The two of them walk through the illuminated archway together, ready to face whatever the future might hold for them side-by-side as they stride across the stars on their way to freedom and, most importantly of all, _home_.


End file.
